


If I Killed Someone For You

by juiceboxjellyfish



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Parents, Angst, Blood, Blood and Injury, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2019, I say graphic descriptions of violence but that's an exaggeration, M/M, Prompt: Parental Figures, better safe than sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21704746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juiceboxjellyfish/pseuds/juiceboxjellyfish
Summary: Baz suspects that The Mage is abusing Simon, but Simon refuses to talk abut it. Filled with rage, Baz is willing to do whatever it takes to protect his boyfriend.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 6
Kudos: 94
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	If I Killed Someone For You

BAZ

The first thing I noticed was the silence. Simon has never been talkative, but he’d listen to me attentively and respond with hums and nods, showing with his body language that he was part of the conversation even when he didn’t feel like talking. This silence is tense and anxious and hard to break. Then came the nightmares. Snow’s always had nightmares, but these are different. They’ve gotten more frequent, and he talks in his sleep. Pleading, crying, begging for mercy. He’ll go back to sleep if I hold him, but refuses to tell me what they’re about.

I think his missions with the Mage are getting worse. He’s away on one, and even though I know he’s incredibly powerful and capable of blowing pretty much any enemy up, I can’t stop worrying about him. I’d come with him if I could, but the Mage doesn’t know about us (he’s pretty much the only one, we even live together) so I’m left in our apartment anxiously waiting for Simon to return. 

He steps through the door right at that moment. It’s almost like I summoned him. 

“I’m back”, he announces and I fight my impulses to run to him and ask if he’s okay. 

He’s a mess. His face is red and strands of hair are sticking to his sweaty forehead. Several dark stains are causing his torn shirt to cling to his skin, and he smells more like smoke than usual.

“Shouldn’t the Mage take some responsibility for these injuries?” I ask, carefully cleaning dried blood from a cut on Simon’s back. He winces when I make contact with the wound and then shakes his head. 

“The missions are dangerous, I’m bound to get a few scratches.”

“A few scratches?” I ask, looking at his back. “Simon, you’re going to be covered in scars if this continues!”

“Well it’s not the Mage’s fault that I keep messing up and hurting myself! He only sends me on missions if he thinks I’ll be able to handle them.” 

I highly doubt that. The Mage is an arse and he treats Simon like a weapon, releasing him on whatever’s in his way, hoping he’ll go off on it. I couldn’t give less of a fuck that Simon’s the chosen one, he’s not a weapon and the Mage doesn’t own him. I turn him around so that he’s facing me.

“Simon”, I say. “You wouldn’t even be on the missions in the first place if it wasn’t for the Mage. This isn’t your fault.”

“It’s not his either. I’m the chosen one, this is what I do”, he responds without making eye contact.

“He could at least help you clean the wounds”, I mutter.

“I don’t mind”, Simon says as I wipe a drop of blood from a scratch on his shoulder. “I like it when you do it.”

I’m awoken from one of my nightmares by one of Simon’s. He’s crying and talking in his sleep again but I can’t make any words out. It’s just incoherent whining and sobbing, and it hurts me to see him like this. I wake him up and he abruptly shuts up, but the tears keep coming. He makes no attempts to talk about it so I do the only thing I know how to do. I hold him. He cries against my shoulder until he falls back asleep, and my shirt is still damp when I wake up. I’m starting to get used to it.

The Mage is getting desperate. Simon graduated from Watford last year and the Humdrum is still out there, so the Mage is trying every idea he can think of to defeat it (him?) and Simon is part of them all. Of course he is. He’s the chosen one, after all. Defeating the Humdrum is his job. But at what cost? Simon is closing himself off from everyone, including me. He refuses to talk about his time with the Mage in any detail and he comes home exhausted and upset. He tries to act like he’s fine, but I don’t know if he’s even doing it for me anymore or if he’s just lying to himself.

We’re having dinner when I bring it up.

“He’s overworking you.”

Simon doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look up from his plate.

“The Mage. It’s inhumane”, I continue. Simon shoves more food in his mouth, still refusing to look at me. 

“He can’t just expect you to be available whenever he needs you to run on one of his dangerous missions. Most of the time you’re not even facing the actual Humdrum! He can’t just use you to blow up whoever’s in his way-“

“He’s not using me!”, Simon interrupts, slamming his fork down on the table.

“Well it fucking seems like he is! He expects you to do whatever he wants you to whenever he wants you to regardless of how it affects you!”, I respond too loudly.

“We’re fighting a war! It doesn’t just stop when I want a holiday, I have to be available!”

“You’re not the only person in the war! Can’t the Mage get anyone else to do things for him? He’s the fucking Mage, he shouldn’t have to rely on a teenage boy!”

“I don’t know if you've noticed, but I’m not a normal teenager! I’m the only one who can win this fight!” Simon is yelling now, and his magic makes the whole room feel hot.

“But you’re still a teen! It’s not healthy!” I’m yelling too, I can’t help it.

“I’m fine!,” Simon shouts back, but his voice breaks and his eyes are filling with tears. “I’m the chosen one! This is what my life is going to be like until I defeat the Humdrum! So what if the Mage is bossing me around? IT’S NOT LIKE I HAVE A FUCKING CHOICE ANYWAY!”

He stands up to storm out of the room, presumably to stop himself from going off on me.

“You should”, I say quietly. I’m surprised he even hears me, but he turns back to the table and looks at me.

“You should”, I repeat. “Have a choice, I mean. You’ve been doing this since you were eleven. It’s not fair.”

I can feel the air literally get lighter as his magic starts to calm down.

“Well, I don’t”, he states, and now he just looks tired.

I can’t fall asleep. I have no idea how many hours it’s been since I went to bed, but the darkness is a different colour now. Simon fell asleep hours ago and I can’t help but stare at him. It almost feels like being back at Watford, expect for the fact that we share a bed now. And that I’m allowed to look at him. The cool, almost nonexistent light from the window makes his skin look pale and desaturated. His arms are scratched and bruised. He told me the scratches were from some kind of devil, but I have no idea what caused the bruises. I want to pull him close and kiss them better. He hardly ever looks relaxed anymore, not even in his sleep. He sleeps curled up in a tight ball, and somehow his sleeping face conveys anxiety and exhaustion. He’s so vulnerable. I reach out to stroke a lock of hair out of his face.

“No”, he whispers. The sound, despite being very quiet, shocks me and I pull my hand back.

“No”, he repeats, louder this time. “No, please, no!”

Another nightmare. He never gets to rest.

“Simon”, I say softly. No response, just more pleading.

“Simon”, I repeat, still quite softly. I don’t want to be too loud, but I might have to. 

“Simon!”

He jerks awake and sits up, gasping for air. I reach out to put my hand on his shoulder, but he flinches away from me.

“Please don’t hurt me”, he breathes, so fast that it all sounds like one long word. 

“It’s just me. Baz. It’s okay”, I tell him while turning the bedside lamp on so he can see me. “You’re safe.”

We make eye contact, and tears start welling up in his eyes. He falls into my arms.

“I’m sorry” he whispers. “I had a nightmare, I thought-“

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here, and I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”

I pull away from him to look him in the eyes. 

“Okay?”, I ask. He nods.

I still haven’t gotten any sleep when the sun starts to rise, but Simon has fallen back asleep and finally seems to be at peace. The morning sunlight paints his skin and hair gold and I can feel his chest slowly rising and sinking when he breathes. Moments like these used to feel to good be true, but now it’s just a painful reminder of the life we can no longer enjoy. I spent years dreaming about lying in Simon Snow’s arms and now that I am, I can’t stop thinking about why they’re bruised. 

It’s taken me too long to put the pieces together.

He tells me about the cuts while I clean them. Sometimes he has burns and bites, and he tells me the stories behind those too. Manticores, devils, goblins… it’s basically just a list of every somewhat dangerous magickal creature you can think of. Some of the stories are terrifying, and he tells them like they’re normal inconveniences. But he won’t talk about the bruises.

When he talks in his sleep, he’s pleading to someone, begging them not to hurt him. His nightmares aren’t about creatures anymore, they’re about someone. A person.

He flinched when I tried tried to touch him.

And he refuses to talk about the Mage.

I’ve always disliked the Mage, but the hatred that fills me now feels like it could burn me up from the inside. It’s like someone has dunked me in gasoline and thrown a match at me, and I wonder if this is what Simon feels like before he goes off. 

_I’m going to strangle that evil motherfucker with his own leggings and toss his body to the merewolves_. 

I start making plans as soon as Simon leaves for his part-time job in the morning. I know I can’t actually strangle the Mage (he’s famous, people would notice. Also I don’t think I’m capable of murder) but I have to get Simon as far away from him as possible. I couldn’t give less of a fuck that Simon is supposed to stay here and fight the Humdrum. It can end the whole world of mages for all I care, I just want Simon to have the life he deserves. Of course people would look for him if he just disappeared. We’d have to go somewhere where people haven’t heard of him. Australia maybe, or somewhere in Asia. Or we could just fuck off to the middle of nowhere and become goatherds or something. Like Ebb. I never understood why she’d waste her powers like that, but now that I’ve seen the shit Simon has to put up with I kind of get it.

I become completely obsessed with it. All my waking hours are spent thinking about various ways to run away with Simon, and yet none of them seem like they would work. How do you hide the most powerful mage ever born from the entire world of mages? And how would I even get him to come with me? He’s convinced that this is his destiny and I think that despite everything, he still looks up to the Mage. 

Penny comes over for tea one day. Should I tell her if I manage to get Simon to run away with me? Is she trustworthy? I don’t think she likes the Mage, and she’d be concerned if we just disappeared without saying anything. When Simon leaves to go to the bathroom, I decide to test the waters.

“Do you ever think it’s unfair that Simon has to deal with so much shit just ‘cause he happens to be super powerful?”, I ask, trying to sound casual. She nods while swallowing a mouthful of scone. 

“Yeah”, she responds. “When we were still at Watford, I used to think it might be better for him if we just ran away.” I put my teacup down without taking a sip.

“Ran away? From what?”

“Everything. The Humdrum. The war. The prophecies, the Mage, all of it. I suggested it to him a few times.” I stare at her in silence for a couple of seconds.

“What did he say?” I realise that I’ve completely dropped the casual tone now. I don’t care.

“He wouldn’t even consider it. He’s too bloody heroic.”

Simon is usually back from his job when I get home since he only works part-time, but today the flat is empty. It might just be the gloomy weather, but there’s something unsettling about it. I’m used to being home alone but Simon usually texts me when something comes up and he should’ve been home a couple of hours ago. Just to make sure I’m not freaking out over nothing, I check to see if he’s left me a note. Nothing. I immediately walk back to my car.

As I’m driving to his workplace, I keep telling myself that he’s fine. He’s probably just working a different shift the usual. He probably told me. He’s probably somewhere normal doing something normal and I’m just overreacting. He’s fine. It’s fine. 

Despite repeating these things in my head the whole drive there, my heart is still trying to beat its way out of my chest when I arrive at the coffee shop where he works. I park my car on the street outside in a spot that’s probably illegal and rush into the shop. A bored barista looks up at me from behind the counter. 

“Is Simon working right now?”, I ask, trying to catch my breath. The barista, who can’t be much older than me, sounds just as bored as she looks.

“I’m not allowed to give out information about other employees to strangers.”

“But I’m his boyfriend”, I exclaim. She sighs.

“Anyone could walk in here and claim that. You’re still a stranger to me.”

I suppose she’s right, but I don’t have time for this right now.

“Has he never talked about me?”, I ask, desperate to find a way to get some information out of her.

“I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you that either”, she replies, but she sounds unsure.

“My name is Baz”, I tell her. “We live together. We went to school together and had a really stupid rivalry. I have pictures of us together. Please just tell me if he’s working right now!” 

“Okay, fine. No, Simon is not working right now. He left a few hours ago.”

“Thank you”, I say a bit too aggressively.

“You’re lucky he never shuts up about you”, she responds. I’d be overjoyed to hear that if I wasn’t panicking.

The Mage. He’s got to be with the Mage. Who else would show up unannounced and take him with them? I have no idea where to start looking if they’re out on a mission, so I head for the Mage’s house. (He has no idea that I know where he lives. He’d probably move if he did.) The drive feels excruciatingly long, and I grow more anxious with every minute that passes. What if they’re on a mission? Should I wait for them? What will the Mage do if he finds me waiting in his house? What if the Mage is there and Simon isn’t? How will I explain myself? Where will I look for Simon? What if the Humdrum’s got him? I can’t fight the Humdrum! Nobody can! By the time I reach the Mage’s neighbourhood, I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack. I almost crash the car into the Mage’s mailbox when I park (once again probably not legally).

I’m about to call Simon’s name when I walk through the front door but stop myself when I hear the Mage screaming in another room. I can’t make any words out, but decide that it’s probably better to stay quiet. 

I find him in the kitchen. The door has been left ajar and his back is turned to me, so I peer in through the gap. He’s screaming at someone on the floor in front of him whose face I can’t make out, but when their pleading voice interrupts him, I recognise it Immediately. _Simon_. 

“Please”, he begs. “I tried! It’s not my fault, I-“ he stops abruptly when the Mage lifts his hand, and then three things happen in the span of a second. There’s a loud smack, Simon yelps, and I slam the door open and storm into the kitchen. I reach the Mage before he has time to react to my entrance and yank him away from Simon by his throat. His hands are stained with Simon’s blood, and all I want to do is hurt him.

SIMON

The Mage’s limp body falls from Baz’s hands and it’s like the world stops the moment he hits the floor. My first instinct is to run up to the body and check on him, but I know it’s no use. I can feel it. Moments ago his magic, though he never used it against me, filled the room. Not as literally as mine would, but the air feels different now. Emptier. 

No… lighter. It’s easier to breathe.

I wish it hurt. I wish my chest was aching, I wish I was heartbroken and inconsolable or at least angry, but I just feel empty. 

I never had a father. I never had anyone but the Mage. For eleven years, I didn’t have him either. He showed up and swept me away to a different world, a world of magic and wonder. A world where I mattered, where I was the most important person alive. I never wanted to be important, I just wanted to matter to someone. I mattered to him. Or at least I thought I did. At first. He found me. He made me his heir… it had to mean something, right? 

Now I’m not so sure it did. 

The last thing he ever did was hurt me.

His corpse is lying in front of me, and I don’t even know what I feel. 

BAZ

The Mage is lying on the kitchen floor. His neck is twisted in an ugly way and his eyes are staring blankly at the ceiling. He’s dead. _Fucking hell, he’s dead. I killed him_.

He must’ve hit his head on the tiles when he hit the floor, because blood is starting to pool around him. _He’s dead_. He’s so, so dead. I’ve been to funerals. I’ve lost people, I’ve seen death, but nobody has ever looked as dead as the Mage does right now. _I killed him_. I can’t have killed him. I wouldn’t kill anyone, I couldn’t. But I did. He’s right there, and he’s dead, and I killed him. I don’t think I meant to kill him. I couldn’t kill anyone. I didn’t mean to kill him. I didn’t want to kill him. Right? I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to punish him for everything he’s done, but I didn’t want to kill him. I didn’t want to kill him. I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t kill anyone. 

But I could.

But I did.

I don’t think I meant to kill him. I had my wand, I could’ve killed him without even touching him if I wanted to. I just wanted to hurt him. I just wanted to protect Simon. 

_Simon_.

What will Simon think? I did this for him, but he wouldn’t want it. He never hated the Mage like I did. The Mage was horrible to him. He never cared for him, but Simon couldn't see that. And who could blame him? No matter what his intentions were, the Mage was the first person who ever paid any attention to him. And I killed him. 

Fuck.

_Fuck._

He’s gonna hate me.

The room is spinning around me and the smell of the Mage’s blood is forcing itself into my nostrils, refusing to let me escape my actions for even a fraction of a second. My vision is blurred and I feel like I’ve been dipped in ice water. Am I breathing? I don’t know if I’m breathing. I don’t know if I know how to breathe. My knees give in and I fall to the floor, the room spinning more violently around me. The blood is spreading across the floor, running in streams between the floor tiles, painting the world red. It makes me nauseous and hungry and repulsed all at the same time and I need to get rid of it, I need to stop smelling it, I need to stop seeing it, it needs to stop, I can’t stand it, I need to get rid of it. I reach for my wand and realise that my hands are trembling. I can barely hold on to the wand but I point it at the body. 

“ _Out, out, damned spot_ ”, I cast, but my voice barely carries. I repeat but it’s still just a whisper. It makes no difference. The blood has reached my knees and is seeping into my trousers, staining my skin. My magic is weak and distant and refuses to come to the surface. I try other spells, anything I can think of, but nothing helps, and I can’t breathe. 

I don’t notice that he’s moving towards me, but suddenly I feel Simon’s hand on my shoulder. He pushes his magic into me and suddenly I’m full of power. I feel endless, bottomless. 

_“Out, out, damned spot”_ , I say, and all evidence disappears, including the body. Even my trousers are clean. Simon pulls his magic back but keeps his hand on my shoulder, and for the first time since I killed the Mage, I look into his eyes. He’s crying silently, clasping his other hand over his mouth. 

“I’m so sorry”, I whisper. “I didn’t mean to. I’m so, so sorry.”

He sobs, and his crying isn’t silent anymore. It gets increasingly loud and intense, and he’s shaking with the sobs. I keep whispering apology after apology, as if anything could undo what I’ve done. 

He doesn't respond, but he leans into me and lets me hold him. I cradle Simon in my arms as he cries. The smell of blood is gone, but the thoughts of what I’ve done still won’t leave me for a second, and the world feels big and cold and empty.

SIMON

It’s been over a year since Baz killed the Mage.

It took months before people even suggested that the his disappearance was involuntary. He’d always come and go when he wanted to, and would rarely disclose his plans to other people. Some still believe he’ll just come back one day and return to business as if he’d never been gone, and I suppose there’s no reason to think anything else. Nobody can confirm that he’s dead, because they never found a body. There isn’t a body to find. There’s no evidence, not a trace of us at the crime scene. Hell, there isn’t a crime scene. 

And yet, every time I’m awoken by police sirens on the street outside, I can only think one thing. 

_They’re coming for us_.

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea back in April and returned to it for the countdown so it honestly feels kind of scary to post it.   
> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment if you liked it! They make my day!


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